


Aurora Borealis

by LaFemmePoeme



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Mythology References, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Episode 160, Songfic, Tenderness, The Compulsory TMA-Lemon Demon Crossover, tags are a mess as usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23445604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaFemmePoeme/pseuds/LaFemmePoeme
Summary: "Pray tell, what lights up the World That Has Ended? "
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	Aurora Borealis

**Author's Note:**

> This is the compulsory Lemon Demon songfic that I've been itching to write for a while, and now finally have the time.  
> Am I aware the song is Christmas-themed? Yes. Will I still write sad-apocalypse-boyfriends-fanfiction about it? Yes.  
> Original song: Aurora Borealis by Lemon Demon, I own nothing but the story.

_Beneath apocalyptic snowflakes from above_   


_We're not in peril, we are in apocalove_

In silence blooms a flower of frost, graceful and meek, existing for mere seconds before it wilts and dies as the blackened ground melts its beauty. Snow is now nothing but a fever dream, a tale of wonder, of unwitting purity. 

Howling in corners and cracks, a cruel wind, slinking its way beneath the surface of bared skin. _As slithering worms and crawling little things it forms and twists and writhes with disease and ruin, thrums hot within this flesh, corrupts me corrupts you corruptscorruptscorruptscorrupts-_

“That’s enough, snap out of it!” 

“Please Jon, oh god, oh no no no...” 

“Jon, look, I- this terror, it isn’t yours. There’s no Corruption, no Crawling Rot to be seen. I’m here with you, we’re together, you’re safe...” 

A murmured “somewhat” hangs in the air, thin as fishing wire. 

“Shh, it’s me Jon. It’s your Martin.” 

“Ah-ah, w-what...” 

Nervous chuckles arise from their graves in a man’s throat, oh so stuttering, they wish to be let free. 

“It snowed today, Jon. It snowed. It was kind of pretty, actually.” 

“yes...I’m sure it was.” 

_So let's take the night off_   


_Be joyful and joyously enjoy the moonrise_   


_And let it destroy us_

But the Moon has fled the horrors, and where she hides no one has seen. 

Her light no longer the comfort of those who do not sleep, gone is the Lightbringer of night, but oh dear, there is no night. Hemera and Nyx have escaped the tendrils of terror, as they fled beyond, they took Night and Day from Earth which is no longer Earth. 

The little Archivist misses The Moon. 

Jonathan’s lover misses him, instead. To Hell with the Moon. 

A scarred hand is taken, guidance offered, from ahead peeks a door of dark wood.

Martin’s breath tickles like a gentle summer breeze. Now he stands behind Jonathan, warm, a hearth in a maw of black ice. 

Jon shivers like a leaf when Martin gently pushes his locks of oaken hair out of the way, and he leans down, down towards a neck exposed, yet he does not tear vicious teeth into vulnerable flesh. Instead, a kiss, feathery light yet carrying more passion than any other, offering reassurance not even he truly feels. The small Archivist sighs in sorrow and need. 

“I wish you wouldn’t lie to me, Martin.” 

“I’m not lying to you Jon.” 

“...Not anymore.”

_Is this the first time that you've ever seen Aurora Borealis crush mankind?_   


_The wind chimes chiming with the screams_   


_A pretty winter night_   


_Your hand in mine_

If it is winter, no one is able to tell, no one knows if seasons even pass. Perhaps that is for the best, Knowing is awful in the New World, after all. 

In a place that was once called by a name, grass still stretches from underneath the soil which is alive with a hunger for devouring. Time drifts on and on and on but who can say if it even exists, in the grasps of the Powers it warps, as all truths of the world have done.

And in this place of grass and ravenous soil, Knowing and Seeing, Witnessing it all yet understanding none, Jonathan Sims, the vessel of Beholding weeps with all-consuming horror that now engulfs the world and yet still he needs to know more. 

He clutches his anchor, his Martin, and sobs, scarred face twisted in a scream. He claws at Martin, his beloved Martin, who is somehow still here, remaining by his side. And he holds Jonathan close, clenches his teeth and _smiles_ at him, smiles at his darling monster. Oh why did he treat him so cruelly back then, when it was still humanity that coursed in their veins.

The Archivist, The Archive, he glows with his thousand luminous eyes, both seen and unseen. Sweet Martin’s bared arms bleed red in the ominous light that emanates from neither the Sun or the Moon.

Pray tell, what lights up the World That Has Ended?

The limitless skies are alive with light, though the Sun has fled. In his place, the heavens are free to Watch, and oh they are curious, hungry with a desire to Watch the world in the grip of its magnificent end. 

Jonathan’s mouth cracks open, chapped lips bleeding and bitten, and Martin clutches him ever tighter, so tight he might crush the Archivist’s remaining bones, if he were human, that is. The air around them crackles in ecstatic waiting for the Archivist’s mouth to speak words not his own, if any words even are his own, if ever were his own.

“ _Aurora B_ _orealis is the colours of the iris in The Eye that Beholds the Archive and his lover entangled in love and terror , forever united as one to watch the world bleed _ “

**Author's Note:**

> *ominously chanting* Season 5! Season 5! Oh my word I'm gonna die!  
> Anyway, now that social distancing is a thing, I'll spend my newly freed time on TMA!  
> ....I'm slightly fearful of the state of my mind once I emerge from this obsession-crazed isolation....  
> Take care of yourselves and please come shout at me about TMA!  
> I'm @ecstasyandsapphism on Tumblr.


End file.
